


Carry On My Wayward Son

by tielan



Series: Watch The Queen Conquer [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-28 16:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: “Kid could wake up any time.”“And find his parents having sex on the couch with the TV on. The horror.” Ange pulls her t-shirt off. “He’ll probably be scarred for life.”





	Carry On My Wayward Son

**Author's Note:**

> A number of short vignettes about the women of Pacific Rim.

Chuck’s asleep almost before his head hits the Iron Man-themed pillow, and Angela takes a moment to watch him.

He’s a little on the short side right now, but wiry. Tough enough to make a brawler – and stubborn enough, too. The bruise from last Wednesday is fading, at least – there’ll be nothing left of it by the weekend. And she needs to talk to Herc about solutions. Maybe it was okay for a guy to defend himself with his fists where Herc grew up, but around here they take a dim view of boys fighting. And the school’s willing to make allowances, given that the boys were bullying Chuck, but they’re not happy about it. Some of those boys have ‘important’ dads.

By which they mean those men pull in several hundred K a year and donate to the school, so their little shits need to be kept happy.

_Sticks and stones my break my bones, but fists will shut the little fuckers up._

Damn Scott for putting that in Chuck’s head. This isn’t rural Queensland, full of bigots and bogans – this is Sydney’s North Shore, and her son – her beautiful, ginger-haired son – is already set apart by the accent he acquired during the years they were up in Townsville. Giving him permission to act like the yobbo these boys already think he is won’t make anything better.

Angela risks a kiss on top of Chuck’s head, knowing she doesn’t get to kiss him in public anymore – or by daylight, or when he’s busy doing things _, mum, aww, yuck, not now_ …

He smells of soap and bedclothes, and he’s the best accident she’s ever had.

She goes downstairs to the best accident she ever fell over as he sits on the couch, his laptop open on the coffee table in front of him. He’s chatting with someone by Skype, friendly and cheerful, and she can’t imagine who it is because the only person he really Skypes is Scott and there’s usually a lot more swearing and trash-talk – but he waves her over.

“Look who turned up in the wash!” He points at the screen where a black-haired woman is sitting at a dining table, notes all spread around her, and smiling.

“Hey, Ange!”

“Belle? What are you--? Hi! How are you?”

Belle grins – one of Ange's best friends from school - the swift upturning of her mouth dimpling her round cheek. “Oh, surviving, surviving. My judge has been assigned to look into some legal stuff for the RAAF, so I’ve been working out at Liverpool for the last couple of weeks. Didn’t bump into Herc until this morning in a meeting—About thirty minutes before Hundan hit. Timing, huh? But how are you? I haven’t seen you—Oh, it must be, two years?”

“Three,” Ange reminds her as Herc eases her down onto his lap. “At the reunion. And I’m good. We’re all good. Well, as good as we can be.” At Belle’s lifted eyebrow, she explains, “Manila.”

“Yeah, talk about crappy news.”

“Looks like Trespasser wasn’t a one-off after all.”

“If it’s an invasion, it’s a pretty slow one. It’s been five months…” Belle pauses, and it takes Ange a moment to realise her old schoolmate is looking not at her, but at Herc, who’s staring at their TV screen.

“Herc?”

They’re showing some of the clean-up crews, clad in whatever gear they can against the toxic blood of the creatures – many local, some international personnel who’ve come in to help. It takes her a moment to recognise the face – older and thicker, but still as dark and handsome – and commanding – as ever.

“Stacker’s there?”

“Looks like it. Must’ve come in with the UN – he transferred out after his sister died flying against Trespasser.”

“His sister? Flying _against_ Trespasser?” On the screen, Belle’s head is turned, probably towards her own screen which must be showing the same interview. Stacker’s a vibrant, commanding personality – the kind of person who starts talking and suddenly has the whole room listening. Of course they’d focus on him. “I didn’t think they let women fly in the armed forces.”

“They don’t.” Herc knows well enough to leave it at that, but Angela pokes him for good measure. “I wasn’t saying anything!”

“You don’t need to.” But she can’t help smiling a little, even as the looks at the devastation wrought by the monster – these _kaiju_ , as pop culture is starting to call them – in the city of Manila. “You should give him a call.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Which, in Herc, means ‘ _probably not’_. Ange is tempted to poke him again, but there’s no point. Her husband is a stubborn sonovabitch; when he gets his mind stuck on something, he doesn’t change it. Just look at their marriage. “Anyway, Belle and I were _talking_ before you came along and started _interrupting_ —”

“I interrupted? You called me over! And pulled me onto your lap—”

“I did not!”

“Did too!”

A cough from Belle interrupts them. “Guys, if I want to see lovebirds sexfighting, I’ll go visit Helen and Des.”

“Lovebirds?” Herc protests.

“Sexfighting?” Ange inquires.

“Whatever,” Belle answers, grinning and undaunted. “Herc, we’re not gonna get anything done tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Ange, we’ll catch up – you, me, and Bets.”

Ange is more than a little abashed as they ring off. “Now she probably thinks you’re a sex maniac.”

“I’m not?” Herc rubs her knee, shifting underneath her in suggestive ways before wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Should we be doing this? Trying for another one, I mean.—if these _kaiju_ are going to become a regular thing—”

“Two isn’t a pattern, Herc.” But she slumps against his shoulder. “Do you want to stop at one?”

“Given that the one is _Chuck_ ,” but he’s grinning when she pokes him. “Let’s say I’m not against it, okay? Especially not the ‘trying’ bit.”

“Mmm,” Angela nibbles on his ear. “Want to try now?”

“TV’s still on.”

“Yes, it is.” She wriggles on his lap and smirks when he squirms. For a country boy, Herc has some pretty funny hang-ups about sex anywhere but bed. “Chuck’s asleep.”

“Kid could wake up any time.”

“And find his parents having sex on the couch with the TV on. The horror.” Ange pulls her t-shirt off. “He’ll probably be scarred for life.”

Herc’s hands slide around her waist. “Kid’s already going to be scarred for life having a dad like m—”

Ange shuts him up with a kiss before he can take that any further. Sometimes he’s an idiot about his background – as though growing up poor is something he should be ashamed of. And she’s well aware that their lifestyle is above and beyond anything he ever imagined living, and that he feels the sting of her parents’ condescension every time they visit, but he’s trying and she loves him for it.

Maybe he’s not the guy she dreamed of when she was a kid or a teenager, but he’s _her_ guy and she’s not about to give him up for anything.

 


End file.
